


A Life Lived

by a_deep_breath



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Klaus Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-06 00:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_deep_breath/pseuds/a_deep_breath
Summary: Klaus didn't want to be special. He didn't want to see the dead. He didn't want to be an omega. He didn't want each day to hurt and his family to hate him. Unfortunately, he knew the world didn't care what he wanted. It only cared about keeping him alive.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Klaus is 14 in the first chapter. He's going through puberty and that's described (including masturbation). He isn't having sex with anyone, but he's still 14. Any sex will be with him as an adult.

**One**

 

Klaus feels the pressure under his skin for days before he realizes what it is. He’s achy, muscles sore along his neck and sides, down the back of his calves. He can’t sleep, which really isn’t anything new. It’s not the ghosts though. They’ve been around less since he’s discovered weed. There is a unique rhythm of blood pulsing between his ears and under his eyes. It’s nothing like the tingling rush smoking a blunt gives him. It isn’t pleasant. 

 

No one seems to notice his discomfort.  _ Nothing new there either,  _ he thinks. It’s only five weeks past their fourteenth birthdays. The family is still caught up in Five’s disappearance. Even Father hasn’t commented on Klaus’s lack of energy during training. Normally, any lackluster performances land him in the mausoleum for the night. 

 

Three days after the pressure began, Klaus wakes up to sweat dripping from his skin. Each inhale is torture. His insides cramp and he wants to scream. He doesn’t. Screaming will bring Ben from down the hall. It will bring Grace with her ever smiling face and Dad; Dad will sneer at him in disgust.

 

Despite its newness, he knows what’s wrong. He’s in heat. 

 

Grace gave them all a sex education two years ago as special summer workshop. Luther hadn’t taken his eyes off the floor. Red had colored Allison’s cheeks for days afterwards. Klaus had put condoms on everything he could get away with. That included the hilts of Diego’s knives and Ben’s favorite pencils. 

 

“Omegas make up two percent of the population,” she said. She pointed to the graph on projector. “That makes them…” she paused and waited.

 

Vanya raised her hand. “Rare,” she answered. 

 

Grace smiled. “Very good.” She motioned towards the group. “Just like you!” Pride quirked at the corners of her lips. She was programmed to have pride in them. “Let’s see if you’ve been paying attention.” She looked them all over. “If omegas make up two percent of the population, what percentage are alphas and betas?”

 

Vanya raised her hand. Ben did too. Five spoke. “Two percent omegas, twenty alphas, and seventy-eight percent betas.” Vanya tucked her hand back into her lap. Ben’s arm drooped. 

 

“That’s right!” 

 

The lesson had been painful slow, dull despite it’s content. Klaus had been bored after the third day. He’d be a beta, middle of the pack, nothing special.  

 

He wasn’t. 

  
Heat licks across his chest and down his throat. It burns away the fear of the dead-- the fear of Dad. It pinkens his face and turns his pale skin into the reflection of rushing blood. He yanks off his clothes and tries to find relief against the white sheets of his bed. Nothing feels right. He’s hard and wet. It drips from his hole and combines with slickness of his skin. He wraps a hand around himself and strokes. It helps until it doesn’t.   

 

Hours later, Allison finds him curled in the tub. He’s shivering from the cold water, but it’s only a minor relief. She sees him and says, “Oh, Klaus.”

 

Dad finds out. Of course he does. He finds out everything. “You’re such a bother,” the man says, squinting behind his monocle. Pogo comes by soon after. The needle pushing into his arm barely registers against the fire in his body. Whatever they gave him works quickly. By the time Luther and Diego are back from sparring, the terrible need inside him has trickled to a drizzle.   

 

He still feels wrong for another two days. The pressure is there beneath his skin. His head thumps and his muscles cramp. The fever is gone though. He can concentrate for short periods of time. It’s better than the torture from before. 

 

Later, Dad comes into his room and stares. “Sir,” Klaus whispers. He wants to stare back. He wants to shout, “I can’t help it! It’s biology.” He doesn’t. Instead he picks at the black nail polish still left on his pinkie. 

 

“You will take suppressants,” Dad states. 

 

Klaus nods. 

 

“This will not get in the way of your duty.” 

 

He nods again. His throat is clogged. 

 

“Klaus,” Dad says sharply. 

 

He jerks his head up. “Sorry Sir,” Klaus replies. “Yes Sir.”

 

The older man is silent for another moment, and then he turns on his heels and departs. 

 

Klaus watches him leave. He slides from his bed and shuts his door. His fingers begin to tremble. Rocks settle in his chest and gut. He goes back to his single bed and curls into himself. There’s a sound to his left. He doesn’t have to look to know its the woman who committed suicide across the street. Her neck has a purple indent and her eyes are wide and frightened. 

He presses his face into his knees and cries. 


	2. TWo

**Two**

 

Klaus never sees Dad. It never matters what time of day-- or night-- he shows up at the mansion. Dad disappears from sight.

 

 _Thank God for small miracles,_ Klaus thinks every time Pogo injects the suppressants into the muscle of his left arm. The thought of having to talk with Reginald makes Klaus sick.

 

Sometimes Grace is there. She offers to make him pancakes. Sometimes he eats them. Mostly, he leaves the moment Pogo is done. After all, there are people to see, drugs to buy.

 

“Ecstasy is my favorite,” Klaus tells the group. They’re sitting in haphazard circle, in off-white chairs, and sharing. He doesn’t mind talking, so he does. His tongue traces over his bottom lip. “That first rush is better than sex.” Not that Klaus really loves sex. He likes to be touched. He likes to touch others. Mouths are fun. Fingers aren’t too bad. What Pogo gives him every three months makes the rest a chore.

 

He blows his colleagues a kiss as he leaves rehab. Most of them are good people who know how to hook him up with stuff that makes him fly. Ben glares at him as he pays Ramon for the little blue pills. It doesn’t matter. Ben always glares at him.

 

The Latina woman screaming in his ear about her abusive husband and the bushie-eyed old man who says racist things fade away as the drugs do they job.

 

“One day you’ll take enough to make me go away too,” Ben says. His feet are planted next to Klaus’s on the asphalt of the alleyway. Klaus reaches out and tries squeeze his brother’s leg. His fingers pass right through.

 

“I’ll never,” Klaus says. He pulls his jacket over his chest. The faux fur lining tickles his nose. The nip in the air sharpens the further the sun goes down. “You’re the only one I like.”  

 

Ben doesn’t smile. “You don’t know what you like.”

 

He frowns and looks at the pills still left in the small baggie. He gives them a little shake before sliding them into his pocket. “I know what I don’t like,” Klaus says. He doesn’t like the dead, Ben excluded. He doesn’t like being reliant on Dad and Pogo to make his omega status disappear. He hates when his smell escapes past the suppressants the closer he gets to his phantom heat. Alphas start noticing him. Noses and eyes search for him in a crowd.

 

He hates that he sometimes lifts his nose in response, trying to catch the strong scent those Alpha’s let out. He closes his eyes and wills himself to be normal. Be a beta.

 

It doesn’t always work. Sometimes, they notice him. Sometimes he fleas. A few times, he lets them brush against him and talk.

 

“What’s your name?” A handsome blonde one asks.

 

“Klaus.”

 

“I’m Eric.” The Alpha lifts Klaus’s hand and kisses the top.

 

The fuck at Eric’s apartment. It’s just okay. Klaus never gets wet enough to really enjoy it, but Eric makes delicious crepes and has a great view of Queens. Klaus stays for two whole weeks before Eric’s moon eyes scare him away.

 

He goes on a binge afterwards that lands him in the back of an ambulance. He dies, well he tries too, but it doesn’t stick. No matter what he does, Klaus always wakes up when they shock his chest or pump adrenaline into his heart.

 

Most of all, Klaus dislikes himself.


	3. Three

**Three**

 

He finds out on the news. Klaus is walking down the street, eating a churro, talking to Ben about the glitter in his newest nail polish, when the image of his father captures his attention. His shoulders go taunt. The churro turns to ash in his mouth. 

 

They both stop in front of window of the sports bar and watch the large screen tv from the sidewalk. “Dad had a heart attack,” Klaus says. He blinks and looks at his dead brother. 

 

“Holy shit,” Ben replies. 

 

Disbelief settles in Klaus’s gut. “Impossible,” he says. Dad can’t die. Reginald Hargreeves is a staple of life. A horrible, unending staple. 

 

He stumbles away and sits on the curb before his legs give out. Fingers shaking, he slips a cigarette from his pocket. 

 

“Klaus.”

 

Beautiful nicotine settles into his lungs and Klaus sucks down another puff. 

 

“Klaus.” Ben tries again.

 

Klaus ignores his brother. He closes his eyes. 

 

“Klaus!” 

 

His eyes snap open. Ben is crouched before him, unaffected by the speed of the passing traffic. “We need to go home.”

 

_ No,  _ Klaus thinks.  _ I only go to the house for suppressants. Everything else doesn’t matter.  _

 

“We need to see the others,” Ben continues. 

 

Klaus snorts. He talks around the cigarette. “We?” 

 

Ben’s lips press together and snaps, “ _ You _ .” 

 

“Why? So we can party?” Klaus looks away from Ben and focuses on his knees. It’s warm enough to wear a skirt, so he’s got on the one he took from the lost and found at the latest rehab center. It’s got a pocket on each hip, and only one hole near the waistline. “I’m sure most of them would be up for a celebration. Luther is the only one who doesn’t think Dad is a bastard.” 

 

The memory that Number One is on the moon flashes through his mind.  _ I wonder if he knows.  _ Pogo has to have some way to tell him. It’s been three days. He has to know. 

 

“Dad is dead,” Ben says. His hands hover over Klaus’s. “You need to figure what’s going to happen next?”

 

Klaus stamps out the end of his smoke. He lights another. “No,” he says back. “No, I don’t.” He stands and stretches. “What I need is to find a party that doesn’t contain any of my family.” 

 

“Klaus,” Ben says sharply. 

 

“Oh, shut up.” Klaus thinks about where he’s at and which dealer would be closest.  _ Johnnie’s place isn’t too far from here.  _ He smiles. Johnnie never wanted anything but money, which suited Klaus just fine. He still has cash from sitting out with a cup near Broad Street two days ago.  _ A party indeed.  _

 

He brushes past Ben and crosses the busy street. A few cars honk. He continues to walk. He doesn’t glance back to the tv or his brother. 

 

***

 

His eyes are crusty and bloodshot when he opens them. A familiar smell, oak and wood polish, makes him aware before he looks around. “What?” he croaks, throat just as dry as his eyes. The hard, flat surface of a desk is at his back. A bottle of expensive scotch is tipped over and empty at his feet. His bare feet. 

 

“Are you alright Number Four?” Pogo’s voice cracks through his skull, despite its soft, even tone. Father’s servant stands in the doorway of the office. His cane is pressed firmly into the floor. Creases mar his furred forehead and cup the corners of his mouth. 

 

Klaus groans. He tries to get up, but his stomach rolls. He slumps back down and swallows the bile in his throat. “How did I get here?” he asks. 

 

Pogo sighs and comes closer. “I assume you walked.” His gentle hand curls around Klaus’s arm and the chimpanzee helps him to his feet. The world sways. Klaus squeezes his eyes shut and counts to twenty. 

 

“Dad really is dead.” Klaus can barely focus, but he looks around anyways. “I couldn’t be in here otherwise.”

 

Sadness flashes across Pogo’s face. “Master Hargreeves is gone.”

 

“Is anyone else here?” 

 

Pogo nods. “Luther is upstairs with Allison. Ms. Vanya is sitting in the parlor.”  

 

Ben is across the room, touching the books on Dad’s shelves. He was always interested in such things.  

 

Klaus curses and rubs a hand over his face. He doesn’t want to see any of his siblings. The living ones that is. “I need to leave.” 

 

“I don’t think that is a wise choice,” Pogo states. He guides Klaus to a chair and helps settle him. 

 

Klaus waves him away after a minute. “This will wear off soon.” He motions towards his head and body. “I’ll be fine.”

 

He frowns and replies, “Klaus, your father just passed away. It’s not a good time to be alone.” He touches Klaus’s shoulder. “Your siblings will need you just as much as you need them.”

 

“Sure,” Klaus says. He lets loose a short chuckle. It’s been years since Luther was shipped off to the moon. They occasionally bumped into one another at the mansion prior. It was never enjoyable. It’s been longer since he’s seen anyone else. A decade. Well, Allison on the screen, but that doesn't count.

 

“You should stay,” Ben says quietly. “He’s right.” 

 

He stands and glances at the desk. He picks up the silver letter opener and matching pen. “I’ll take these to remember Dear Old Dad by.” He takes a few steps, and when he doesn’t pass out, he takes a few more.

 

“Number Four,” Pogo chides. 

 

“I’ll see you in a few weeks Pogo,” Klaus replies. He swipes ones of the books Ben had been looking at and tucks it under his arm. 

 

He hears footsteps from above, but he doesn’t stop to see who it is. Vanya isn’t in sight, which is another blessing. He really doesn’t care about her book. She just told the truth. He just doesn’t want to talk too her. 

 

The warm spring air makes him lightheaded for a moment, but he just shakes away the feeling. “Where are you going?” Ben asks. 

 

Klaus shrugs. “Away from here.” 

 

“You’re not even sober yet.”

 

Klaus laughs. “I haven’t been sober in years my dear brother. You know that.”

 

Ben trails beside him to the bus stop two blocks away. He’s stopped talking, stopped trying to reason. Klaus is grateful for the break. 

 

It’s not a long wait. Five minutes top before COTA arrives. He takes a seat next to a woman with bright pink hair and racoon eyes. Klaus completely relates. He wonders if she’s got any weed on her. He strikes up a conversation and ignores his brooding brother. He ignores the prickling of his eyes and they way his thoughts keep drifting to his family. He doesn’t want to think about any of them. 

 


	4. Four

**Four**

 

Klaus spends the next four weeks binging. He smokes too much, drinks to much, and consumes enough drugs to kill any average person. Two weeks in Ben disappears. Klaus melts the biggest spoonful of heroin he’s ever seen and plunges into his arm in triumph. “Jiminy Cricket is gone!” he shouts to a room containing one passed out crack addict, and two methed-out beta girls going at it on the floor two feet away. The next day he sobs for hours. Ben doesn’t appear. 

 

He doesn’t know where he is when the police come. He’s naked in a strange tub with no water. His torso is bruised and his arms are lined with needle marks. His nose and throat hurt. There are officers all around. One yanks him from the bathroom and shouts at him to get dressed. 

 

He leans over and throws up. 

 

“God damn-it,” the heavyset cop yells. “Thompson, this guy is yours.”

 

Another uniform comes over, takes a look at them and sighs. “Okay,” he says. 

 

“You’re pretty,” Klaus slurs. The man has short, thick curls and smooth skin. He smells like fresh air and cleanliness.  

 

“Yeah,” the guy says. He slips a hand onto Klaus’s shoulder. “Let’s find you something to wear.” He takes Klaus into the bathroom again and tells him to rinse out his mouth and wash his face. He disappears for a minute before coming back with a pair black jeans and a pale yellow t-shirt.

 

“I don’t know if those are mine,” Klaus says. They don’t look like something he’d normal wear. Too rough and bland.

 

“Well, let’s see if they fit.” 

 

It’s a struggle to get into the pants, more because his sense of balance has disappeared than being too big. The shirt is easier and feels soft against his skin. They can’t find any shoes, but it’s not the first time Klaus has gone without them. 

 

There are four squad cars in total and Klaus is put in the back of Officer Thompson’s. He sees a pink-haired girl in the back of the one ahead of him. He can’t make out the people in the other two. He leans against the cool glass window. 

 

Eventually, the officer opens the driver’s side door and slides inside. 

 

“What’s your name?” he asks. 

 

“Klaus.” He doesn’t offer his last name. 

The guys turns and looks at him through the barred barrier. “Well Klaus, we got a call for noise disturbance.” He turns on the engine. “We found you and three others, plus a boat load of ecstasy, heroin, meth, and weed.” 

 

Klaus shrugs. He doesn’t know what day it is or who any of the others are. From the way he aches and molasses of his mind, the drugs are not surprising.  

 

“It’s a miracle you aren’t dead.” He pulls them from the curb and merges into traffic. 

 

“I never am,” Klaus says. He looks at the world from his seat. Ben isn’t sitting beside him. There are people milling around, staring at the cop cars. Klaus can’t tell if any of them are dead. Probably not. 

 

“What’s your name?” Klaus asks.

 

“I’m Officer Thompson,” he replies. His eyes flicker to the rearview mirror. 

 

It’s such a standard response that Klaus smiles. Typical polite uniform. There’s been a few in life. They’re much better than the angry kind. Klaus rolls his eyes and says, “Mmmhmm.”

 

A grin brightens the corners of the man’s eyes and he nods. “I’m Dave.”

 

“Dave, a majestic name.” Klaus has met a dozen Dave’s. He doesn’t really remember any of them. 

 

“It’s up there with John and Robert,” Officer Dave quips. 

 

“Absolutely,” Klaus replies. He runs his hands down the front of his new yellow shirt. Wrinkles live in the fabric. Then he shuts his eyes and wishes the world away. 

 

The high of whatever he took is fading. A painful energy shocks across his nerves and makes his skin too tight. In another moment, another day, he’d continue flirting with handsome Dave. Right now, he feels like crawling in a hole and disappearing. 

 

It’s quite in the car as they drive. Klaus tries to remember the breathing exercises he once learned. It isn’t working. First he takes in air too fast. That makes his heart pound in his ears. When he slows, it’s better, but the memories of his father, of his childhood hover like the monster under his bed. 

 

“Is it anything you want to talk about?” 

 

The question startles Klaus from his thoughts.  

 

“What?” 

 

Office Thompson asks again. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener, so you can share what’s bothering you.”

 

A huff escapes Klaus’s lips. “What makes you think something’s bothering me?”

 

They turn left and stop at a red light. “Well,” Dave says. “We found you naked in a drug den. It seems like you’ve been there a while.” He twists and looks at his passenger. “You’ve clearly seen better days.”

 

“You flatterer.” The tease falls flat. Klaus doesn’t have enough in him. 

 

“So?”

 

“So,” Klaus says. “Why do you care? You’re doing your job. Arresting the evil druggie.” 

 

The man sighs. The light turns and they move. It’s slow. Traffic in New York is rough anytime of day. “I think my job is to help people, not arrest them.” 

 

At that Klaus laughs. It’s sharp and cruel. That hasn’t been his experience with law enforcement. “Right. If that’s the case, why don’t you drop me off at the corner and leave me be.”

 

“Well, Klaus, I can’t do that. It’s also my responsibility to make sure you aren’t a danger to yourself or others.” The station appears in the distance. “Experience tells me you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

 

“My experience tells me that I can take care of myself.”

 

Their eyes meet through the rearview mirror. “Why do you have too? We all need others to help us.”

 

The only person who’s ever had Klaus’s back is Ben.  _ And I screwed that up.  _ Even if his brother returns, Klaus isn’t sure he’ll be forgiven. Klaus wouldn’t be so kind.

 

“Some people are beyond help.” The words slip from his mouth before he can stop them.  

 

They pull into the police station. “That’s not true at all. Times get rough. That just means you need the right person to help you through.”

 

Dave unbuckles his seatbelt and turns off the car. “Oh, is that you?” Klaus tucks his hands under his arms squeezes himself. 

 

“Maybe,” he replies. “I don’t know yet.”

 

It’s a sweet sentiment. 

 

The officer gets out of the squad car and unlocks Klaus’s door. He leans against the frame of car and offers a hand. Klaus hesitates, then slips their fingers together. A shadow flickers in the corner of his eye. “Besides,” Dave says. Ben’s lean figure solidifies in the seat beside Klaus. He stares at his knees. Attention far away from Klaus.  “I can’t just let an omega suffer. It’s not in my nature.”

 

Klaus jerks his gaze from his brother to the man talking.  _ Omega.  _ A frisson of unease scratches up his spine.  _ He shouldn’t be able to tell. It’s not time for my shot.  _ “What day is it?” Klaus spits.

 

Dave blinks and his eyes narrow. “Uhh, Tuesday?” 

 

“No, what’s the date?” Ben is looking at him now. 

 

“June third.” 

 

_ No, no, no.  _

 

“Klaus…” Ben’s voice is low, as if he’s expecting to be ignored. 

 

“Ben, it’s been too long.” Fear settles behind his brother’s brown eyes. He knows Klaus isn’t talking about their reunion. 

 

“Who’s Ben?” Dave asks. “Who are you talking too?”

 

Klaus doesn’t respond. “I’m two weeks overdue.” He reaches out towards Ben’s body. His fingers slip through his shoulder. 

 

“What? Overdue? What are you talking about?”  

 

“This can’t be happening.” Klaus pulls at his hair. “I always remember. No matter what. I’ve always remembered.”

 

“No you haven’t,” Ben says. It’s not condensing or accusing. It’s just a matter of fact. “I’ve remembered.”

 

Tears stick against his eyelashes. “I’m sorry,” Klaus cries. He should have never let Ben disappear.  _ What did I do?  _ He drags his nails across his face. Red lines appear. 

 

“Hey!” Officer Dave shouts. “Stop that.”

 

_ Why am I so selfish.  _ He reaches out towards Ben again. “I need to go home. I need Pogo.” 

 

Ben shakes his head. “It’s too late.” 

 

“Calm down.” 

 

An arm wraps around him and pulls him back from the car. It’s not Ben’s arm. It’s muscular and strong. Fine brown hair and pale skin. Closer to the man than before, the scent of the officer swirls around and through him. 

 

_ Alpha.  _ “Let go!” Klaus pushes forward, but the man doesn’t budget. He’s strong and well trained. “Please, let me go.” Tears cloud his eyes and his head begins to ache harder. “I can’t go through this.”

 

“It’s going to be okay,” the officer, Dave, whispers. “I promise. You’re going to fine.”

 

_ I’m not,  _ Klaus thinks.  _ I’m really not.  _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it's been a long time since I've written anything. That bug has seemed to bitten me and well, here we are. I hope you enjoy.


End file.
